For Real This Time
by Ciella
Summary: All Archie gave the St. Johns was a deathwish. Now Geoffrey wants to give his wife the ceremony she always wanted.
1. Chapter 1

It's been a while since I've subjected any writings to the general fanficker public. Bear in mind that this fic will be kept as closely in canon as possible, but sometimes the lines between characters will be smudged. **If you don't like Geoffrey St. John, you're reading the wrong story.**

Extensive thanks to both _Sweet Valentine Vampire_ and _Jazzerman_, friends that regarded this piece with the utmost care and consideration. Couldn'a done it without you guys!

* * *

Knothole was ablaze with celebration. Crowds flooded the streets, every avenue, every boulevard, jammed with thousands of bodies from hundreds of homes. Some waved banners, some signs. Everyone was screaming, all screaming for him.

The hero of the hour was lifted up by the crowd, carried on a magic carpet of hands towards the castle of Acorn. It was all a blur to him; the grandeur rushed him like speed never could. He passed through the castle gates, wound about the royal gardens, and finally, nearly missed decapitation floating in the main doors. The crowd set him down gently. Hands reached out to touch him, feathering about, landing, floating away. Honored and yet disturbed, Sonic did not look back at the flock of skittish pigeon-hands.

His feet sank into the rich carpet. In a daze, he felt for a wall to lean against. Could he really be home?

The news of Sonic's return preceded him. The royal family could be seen at the landing at the top of the stairs, Max and Alicia looking over the balcony in mild and dignified surprise. Elias and Sally were talking excitedly, with the prince glancing between his sister and their guest. He shepherded her towards the stairs and let her be.

Sonic watched her glide down the staircase, eyes wide and glassy in disbelief. She was surreal, chestnut hair floating out weightlessly behind her, one arm extended for guidance. Watching her drift down to him so lightly, Sonic felt a rush in his chest. _This is the presence I felt all along,_ he knew. _She never left my side._

He crushed her close to him. His arms locked behind her back, his lips drove into her cheek. There was no motion with which he could express his relief. Which was just as well, as it quickly gave way to nagging anxiety.

Behind the calm royal couple and their son, a deep shadow lay across the corridor, thicker than the walls. He saw two pairs of eyes, one a sharp glittering and the other a dull gleam.

Sally pulled back to look in his face. "Sonic?"

"Sal?"

She cocked her head gently, eyes tearing. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, Sal. I'm totally fine! It's good to be back." He kissed her the way he knew she wanted to be kissed, passionately and at length.

"Mm," she hummed in contentment, "I missed you, Sonic."

"I missed you, too, Sal. I-" He looked back up at the balcony, where the eyes held their positions. "Where do we go from here?"

"My parents wanted to give us a moment to ourselves before greeting you. Come on."

Sonic all but jumped when the shadow he cast caught his attention. He followed warily, wondering if he'd grown paranoid from living alone without anything comforting or familiar. It was a relief to reach the top of the landing, as the shadow was shallower from this angle. He could clearly see the white of St. John's bangs and face, the green in Hershey's eyes. "Oh, it was just you guys! Man, you looked so creepy from below."

Geoffrey sighed, speaking in a lower and more even voice than he remembered. "Somehow I knew you'd say something like that." He nodded his greeting; it wasn't polite to greet a guest before the king had his say. Sonic watched Geoffrey turn his head to his partner, giving the silent look of a confidante as he pressed her hand between both of his own. _Something has changed,_ he told himself. _Somehow, they are different from the way they were before._

"Sonic!" Max called with hand extended. "May I be the first to congratulate you on your safe return!"

"Yes," the queen interjected with an eager nod. "Welcome home, Sonic."

"Aw, thanks. I… I don't know what to say."

Elias seemed to appear out of thin air appear behind him, making Sonic jump when he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Say you'll come to dinner tonight. There'll be a banquet in your honor."

"Aw, Elias, man, banquet's aren't quite my style-" He caught a fatal glance from the princess. He gulped and licked his lips, surrendering. "Yeah, sure thing! When is it?"

--- --- ---

The banquet jumped to life as soon as the doors were opened. No one bothered to be "fashionably late," as everyone was too eager to see the famous hedgehog alive and in one piece. Antoine and Bunnie were among the first to arrive, along with a case of wine- Sonic would have preferred other obvious favorites, but it was the thought that counted. Rotor arrived in a suit and his old hat, with Tails following behind. The little guy was so happy to see his best friend that he forgot about his awful penguin suit for the rest of the night.

As always, Geoffrey and Hershey watched from the sidelines. Sonic couldn't quite relax with them around. They rarely moved or spoke or made any kind of noise. Constantly within the gaze of the captain's large, pale eyes, Sonic felt that he was perpetually under floodlights. It brought back memories of his time as a fugitive.

Sonic shivered. Normally, he and the captain messed with each other, stuck their noses in each other's business. But in that chase, something up close and personal had been invaded. Sonic had felt himself shrink, heart pounding wildly. He felt his pupils dilate and his noise quiver, like a lone rabbit in a bald twilight field, defenseless before the carnivore's bloodthirsty stare.

But when he peered out of the corners of his eyes, he couldn't find malice in the captain's stern face. He watched Geoffrey reach for Hershey's hand just as before, their attention leaving their charges for a moment. Hershey's quietly sad green eyes, mellow and soft, held a melancholy contrast against her quivering smile. Geoffrey kissed her forehead with some inaudible sweet nothings, surprisingly gentle despite his size. The clinking of silverware caught their attention. Their fleeting tender moment crinkled like dried leaves under the heel of a hunter's boot.

Sonic turned back to his plate. He had to ask Sally to repeat herself over and over again, deafened with a guilt that he couldn't place. His eyes kept wandering back to the statues standing guard at the corners of his eyes.

He felt Sally's hand close around his beneath the table. He glanced at Antoine and Bunnie's winking diamond rings. Something clicked in his brain. His head spun and Geoffrey's stare hovered there ready for him.

Sonic shuddered against the impact of the intense, unwavering eyes. An awkwardness settled over the table of which he was not aware. Antoine continued the conversation out of courtesy.

Guilt gripped his stomach with cold fingers; he could feel its nails digging in. Hershey tugged at her partner with her doleful eyes. Drawn to them, Geoffrey immediately looked away. He lowered his lids in a noiseless humbling gesture. Mouth open in bewilderment, Sonic wanted to scream at them, asking what their problem was. He wanted to jump up from his seat and grab Geoffrey by the front of his green uniform and shake him violently. Hershey's face turned towards him ever so slightly, knowing eyes leaving Sonic under the impression that she knew his thoughts.

He turned away feeling chilled and breathless. The light caught Bunnie's diamond and the ring winked at him. The nails sank deeper…

"Sonic?" He sucked in a deep breath, Ant's lively chattering voice pulling him out of his trance. "Are you well?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Ant. Sal asked me that before. Am I pale or something?"

"Actually, yes. You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"Nah! I just can't believe I'm back, is all. Keep losin' myself in moments from the past year, only to wake up in a way and realize that I'm safe an' sound in Knothole again."

"Aw, Shugah-Hog, it musta been hard f'you." Bunnie let her upright hand fall limp in a characteristic wave. "But it was even harder fo' us to go without'chu."

Rotor agreed, comically singsong. "Ah-men! To Sonic." He raised his glass. He wasn't big on wine, put he'd poured himself a few mouthfuls to humor Antoine.

The company responded to the toast in near exact synchrony. "To Sonic!"

He sat back and drank in the warm welcome of all his friends around him. A tiny kernel of fear ingrained itself in him, much like a splinter. He knew that the instant he was alone again, the statues would haunt his mind, plunging icy hands inside of him to twist his stomach dry.

Sonic stood by Sally as the dinner ended to shake hands with all of the guests. Tails and Bunnie both opted to hug him, while Rotor merely patted him on the back. Sally restrained Amy to _one_ hug, and a rather short one at that. Having learned long ago that the French _bise_ was not accepted in this part of Mobius, Antoine grasped Sonic's hand and shook it earnestly. But the gem on his ring caught on Sonic's glove, tearing it right along the heartline of his palm.

"Ah!" He drew back and scolded his hand with a glare. "Sonic, I am so sorry. I had no idea-"

"It's cool, Ant. Got loads more o' these at home." He grinned and waved the coyote off, still muttering at himself. Putting his arm around Sally, he confided, "Ant's gotta take it easier on himself. He didn't do anything wrong."

"He's been under a lot of pressure lately. His father died just a little while back, you know."

"The general? Really?"

She nodded gravely. "He was heartbroken. Of course Bunnie was there for him."

"Good ol' Bunnie."

"Without her, I wonder if he would have pulled through."

"I know the feeling."

Sally's eyelids arched with her sweet smile and she squeezed him in delight. "I love you, Sonic."

"Trust me, I love you, too, Sal." He removed his torn glove and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. "But can I get outta this damned penguin suit? I been good about it all night, anyway."

"That you have. Alright, fine. Go return to your normal, sloppy state. Just be sure to say goodnight." She kissed his cheek and let him go.

"You don't even have to remind me." Sonic hurried up to the other end of the hall, where Elias was dismissing the guards. "Hey, wait, don't go anywhere just yet!"

Elias blinked. "Something wrong?"

"Nah, I wanted to talk to St. Jerk here."

"Don't go starting any fights," Elias warned him nonchalantly, already walking away. White gold glittered on his ring finger.

"Nag, nag, nag!" Sonic waggled his head mockingly. "All these royals ever say is "don't do this, don't do that!" Man, I'm already sick of it."

Hershey chuckled. "You better get used to it. The royals change very little, no matter how close to them you get."

"You guys of all people would know," Sonic admitted grudgingly. "I mean, you are their personal protection."

"We know things we'd be better off not knowing." Geoffrey shrugged, not quite looking him in the eyes. "Listen, about before, I didn't mean to psyche you out."

"People keep askin' if I'm okay, but I'm starting to think you guys are the ones that need help."

The skunk frowned at him. "You better not be calling me crazy, hedgehog."

"Well, not just that," Sonic smirked. Geoff crossed his arms and Hershey chuckled. "Normally you guys look attentive and important and egotistical while on guard. Today… you were pretty freaky."

Hershey smiled at his concern, resting a soft, reassuring black paw against his upper arm. "Yeah, we been a little off. But don't worry, we'll be okay."

"You sure you can't tell me? I mean, I know Max keeps a don't-ask-don't-tell policy, and he's pretty strict with you guys. But if I'm lucky, I'll be workin' with you guys someday."

"Now that's something I never thought I'd hear you say." Geoffrey lifted his bangs out of his face with the back of his hand. "And you wanna hear something I never thought I'd say?"

"What's that, St. Jerk?"

Geoffrey smirked. "When the day comes, I'll be glad to call you my king."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

The skunk laughed like he never heard him laugh before, a rich, deep belly laugh that radiated with restrained joy. "Exactly, mate. Seems to me you've wizened up."

"I like to think so. You guys gonna let me in on whatever's goin' on?"

Geoffrey extended a hand. _This uniform has no gloves, _Sonic thought. _I'll always think of him in those tacky magenta gloves._

Sonic gripped the skunk's thick, bear-like paw. Naked hands intimate like lovers' bodies without sheets, Sonic felt an absence rather than a presence thereof. He pumped the hand firmly and let it go. The skunk met his eyes and nodded before turning away without another word.

_No ring._

* * *

I anticipate that somebody out there's gonna complain about Sonic and Geoffrey's relationship. In the comic, no, they would never act like this. Then again, nobody in the comic ever really "grows up" or achieves a third dimension. Geoffrey and Sonic's mutual understanding is a result of emotional maturation and the changes they undergo for the women they love.

But hey, if you read this far, it must be worth something. Kudos to you for trying something new!


	2. Chapter 2

To Jon & Nana: I thank you for all your time and consideration. I am so lucky to have you both!

* * *

The narrow hallway was deserted by the time the guards were dismissed. The lights were on their dimmest setting, just bright enough for a pair of diurnal eyes to see a few feet before them. Too tired to care if anyone was coming, they walked abreast.

Hershey leaned her head on his shoulder as he patted his pockets for keys. When he started to grumble in frustration, she muttered, "Inside left pocket, Geoff."

"That's ridiculous. Why would I-" he froze when his fingertips grazed cold metal. "Damn you."

She chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Open the door, I wanna sleep."

"Yeh." The room exposed itself to them in a deadpan fashion. So pale and without decoration, it reminded Hershey of a bottom feeder's belly. It was your typical Acorn dorm: white walls, gray carpet, a single, noisy cot. There was one window (a treasure in a large, dimly-lit castle) and a private bathroom rather than a shared or adjoined one. Though the latter two were things most of Knothole took for granted, they were luxuries for castle workers, a few perks of Geoffrey's rank.

Hershey eased herself gently on to the cot, afraid it would collapse if she just plopped. "You sure this can hold both of us?" She smiled wryly at him, seeing him turn his red face away.

"Gimme the keys to your dorm, I'll bring your cot in here."

"Don't be silly! I'm just messing with you." She undid her uniform and discarded it off the side of the bed, more concerned with her overwhelming fatigue. His eyes remained averted until he heard the clothes thump. He snatched them up and hung them on a coat rack-like fixture. He undressed and slipped in beside her, his bride of only a few short weeks.

_Hard to believe_, he thought to himself, nose in her hair. _Hard to believe she would agree to marry me at all. Hard to believe it was nearly a month ago we made our "final wishes" known to each other._ His neck ached from the downhill slope his head lay on; the pillow was too old to remain fluffed. Something cracked in his neck when he rolled his head. "Hershey?"

"Yep?"

He tried to gather his thoughts quickly before the atmosphere in his drowsy mind could thicken. "When you were little, what kind of place did you want to live in?"

"A small town." Her voice was a satisfied hum. He shifted his head on to her shoulder, rubbing her stomach from behind.

"I thought you'd find that boring."

"Boring is better than unsafe and painful. The inner city is a tough place to live." Stifling a yawn, she kissed his wrinkled brow. "What's bugging you?"

"Nothin'."

"Now don't try to feign sleep. You're not one to talk when tired."

"Naw, that's f'sure."

"Well?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess I never realized how… how inadequate this place is."

"It's a dorm, Geoff. Military regulation. There's not much you can do about it."

"Like hell there isn't. Most of us stay in dorms 'cause they don't charge rent. Between the two of us, we could easily afford our own place, no?"

She tongued her upper canines in thought, rolling the idea over the enamel. "I guess so. But we're gone a lot, Geoff. These places are so convenient because they're minimum maintenance."

"Only 'cause there's nothin' in 'em to maintain. Lemme look in town. There migh' be a plot or two you'll like." He stopped when she gave no response. Her breathing slow and rhythmic in his ears, he knew it was the belly rub that put her to sleep. _Always does._

His lids sank like bricks. Blue dreams drifted hazily about his subconscious mind as the stars winked through the lone window.

--- --- ---

"It really was the strangest thing," he said again. "Never experienced anythin' like it."

"I know, Geoff, you told me half a million times this morning."

He rubbed the back of his neck, walking slowly down the road to town. Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest and relaxation. Visiting the new and unknowing mother-in-law was hardly a break. _I'll take jumpin' from a plane anyday._

Everything itched- behind his ear, his cheek, above his knee, the small of his back, his crotch, everything. His hackles stood on end. He hadn't swallowed this many times per minute since he went to take his piloting exam at age thirteen. His gut hurt from flopping around so much, and he felt a little bit sick. This woman could make or break them. What if she didn't like him? What if she caught a glimpse of his awful temper and felt he was too dangerous to live with her daughter? What if she only wanted to see Hershey with a tomcat?

_This is nuts! Pull yourself together, mate._ He sighed, catching sight of a hut a little ways off on a side street. _That's it, I just know it._

Hershey approached the door easily. "Oh, it won't be so bad. Try an' stand up straight."

He sighed again. His ear twitched violently from an agonizing itch that he was afraid to scratch should the door open. His whole body was stiff except for his hyperactive gut.

The door opened with a huff rather than a creak. A tuxedo cat much like Hershey stood, long, curving claws around the doorknob, graying a bit where black gave way to white. "Hershey, sweetheart!" She embraced her daughter warmly. A pupil glinted like a coin tossed into the sun, catching sight of Geoffrey over her shoulder. "And who is this?"

Hershey pawed his arm lightly out of habit. "C'mon, introduce yourself."

"Er-" He scratched his ear involuntarily. "Cap'n Geoffrey St. John, ma'am."

"He's my husband, Mom."

The old cat's smile never faded. Her eyes roamed over him mechanically, as a prospective buyer would a new car. Tail flicking behind her, she nodded. "I see! Wonderful. C'mon inside, it's too hot out here."

She sat them down- rather pointedly- on a loveseat, across from the armchair she occupied. The water was on, she assured them, they could talk while they waited.

"How long have you two been married? I had hoped you'd tell me right away if something so eventful happened."

Hershey pinned his hand to his leg when he tried to scratch his ear again. "Uh, about a month."

"A month! So many things can happen in so much time! Where are you staying?"

"Well, Mom-"

"You know you could always stay with me if you needed to."

Geoffrey's eyes teared, partly at the painful thought, partly at the painfully heavy whiff of middle-aged perfume in his sensitive nose. Hershey waved her hand. "No, no, that's okay. We're sticking with our dorms until we find a place outside the castle."

The kettle whined distantly. "Dormitories? Hershey…"

"Mom, it's only temporary."

"That's what I said about the city, and you know how that ended up."

Mildly insulted, Geoffrey opened his mouth to say something, but promptly shut up. Hershey normally let him run the show; if she was dominating this conversation, there was a reason for it. "Mom!" The kettle whistled high. "You were married to an abusive man. Geoff's a military man, and no lightweight, either. We'll be out of the dorms as soon as we pick a place we like."

"I hope so. I certainly will not have my grandchildren raised in a dormitory." She chuckled as the kettle screamed. Pupils dilated so that only a paper-thin sliver of blue remained, Geoffrey felt his heart stop. A new home was one thing. Burning a hole in his wallet was one thing; money was just an object, and one he had started off without. Children were demonic little bastards that he hardly wanted to think about.

Hershey pawed his arm. "You okay?"

In the dread woman's absence, his throat loosened up a little. "Let's get out of here."

"Oh, it's not so bad." He pleaded with his wide eyes. "You're serious."

"Completely."

"She's my mom. She's not going away."

He groaned. "I know."

She reappeared with a tray, carrying the kettle, three teacups, and loose tea leaves. Spying Geoffrey's pale face, she asked her daughter, "Is he alright?"

"He's just nervous."

"Aw. Sugar?"

"No thanks, Mom." Hershey reached out to take the handleless teacup, filled with a steaming white tea brew. Her mother froze momentarily.

"Where's your ring?"

Hershey's cheeks colored. "It's not important! Can I have my tea?"

"But how did you get married- how did you propose?" Her head switched between the newlyweds rapidly. Both of them fell into an uneasy silence.

Geoffrey finally opened his mouth. "We… weren't exactly married under normal circumstances."

"What do you mean?"

"Mom, it's not important. We just didn't do things conventionally." Hershey snatched up her tea before her mother could refuse, breathing in the steam with delight. "Ah, so good. Though it doesn't quite compare to the smell of frothed milk."

"Hershey!" Her mother almost threw up her hands and the teacup in them. "How exactly were you married?"

Geoffrey avoided making eye contact. "As a last wish."

"Excuse me?"

"No offense, ma'am! I wasn't saying Hershey was my last choice. I'm saying we…" he met Hershey's eyes to check the thickness of the ice he tread upon. "…we asked to be married because we thought we were going to die."

The graying cat's eyes grew huge. The stare was unnerving; there was far more anger than surprise in the whites of those eyes. "Die?"

"Yeh. The Secret Service can be a dangerous business, ma'am."

Hershey intervened before her mother could throttle her new husband. "That's enough, Geoff, she'll worry herself to death."

"Death! Hershey, sweetheart, I can't believe you're working under such conditions!"

"You're a veteran of the Great War, Mom! How can you criticize my work?"

Her nostrils flared. "That doesn't mean I have to like it, Hershey. Anyway," she sipped the steaming tea briskly, "you never told me why you're without a ring."

"Did you hear a word Geoffrey said? It was our dying wish. We didn't exactly have time to run out and buy a size six and thirteen."

"I thought you said it's been a month."

"Well, yes…"

"That's _plenty _of time to pick up a ring, whether or not it's a little late."

Hershey was so angry and humiliated that she couldn't look her mother in the eye. She glanced at her husband, his head shrinking into his shoulders, ears flat against his head. _Maybe he was right before,_ she thought. Pity and embarrassment made her throat hot. "We gotta go, Mom, it's almost noon."

"Already? I can make lunch."

"No, that's okay. Geoff said he wasn't feeling great before, an' I just wasn't listening. I wanna get 'im home." He squeezed her hand in thanks.

"Alright, then. Come back and visit soon! I want to hear all about your new place as soon as you get it."

--- --- ---

They walked to the end of the street in silence, waiting until they were well out of sight and earshot before saying anything. Hershey held his hand tight. "I'm so sorry about that."

"No worries, love. You had no way o' knowin' that she would act like that."

"A part of me did. But the rest of me wanted to believe that, for once in my life, she would be supportive."

Her gleaming green eyes dimmed as she emotionally recoiled from the memories. His arms were thick as anchor chains but gentle as a robin's wing when he pulled her close. The warm scent of his cologne was familiar and calming. "It's okay, love. You don't have to stand alone anymore."

Her smiled peeked out from the dimples in her cheeks. "I know. Thanks."

"Hey, it's no prob'm." He let her go. They both knew they were speaking in code for those three- and sometimes four- very difficult words.

The sun was bright overhead. It was so muggy that boots made a sucking noise against the damp mud of the road, skin slipped over skin because of a slicking film of sweat. It made them feel like living swamps.

But where the heat made others wilt, they were largely unaffected. They had visited far hotter places in searching for the prince. Of course, togetherness played a role in their immunity, as did the sweet perfume of numerous bursting buds. Because they felt the breeze acutely, it felt more mild and pleasant.

They ambled around, walking off their embarrassment. Hershey pointed out a few lots of open space. Geoffrey turned them all down; too small, too uneven, too crowded, too ugly. Upon reaching the very fringe of town, Hershey huffed. "I don't know what to tell you, Geoff. We've covered most of the village already. It's not that big."

"Wait…" Geoffrey stopped and cocked his head. Not far ahead was an oak of countless years, straight as a rod and wide as three columns.

"It's an empty space. I'm not even sure this area is protected. Besides, it's a long way to work, Geoff."

"I don't mind." But he wasn't looking at her when he said it. All around the oak's long shadow grew an irregular necklace of hydrangea. He held up a droopy blue cluster of flowers. "Look at these."

"They're snowball plants." She said flatly. "What of it?"

"I like this spot, is all. It okay with you?"

The heavy smell drew her in, dew glittering on the thousands of tiny cobalt petals. Her lids drifted lazily. "It's peaceful here," she agreed.

"I'll contact Manny, get some lumber over here. He won't rip us of. In the mean time, I oughta draw us up some plans."

"What plans? It's a hut. Keep it simple."

"Nothin' special you want?" He held the flowers like a newborn's head.

"Let me help as you go along, that's all I want."

The conversation died off. On a whim, Hershey threw herself down on a spot of tall, yellow grass to sun. Geoffrey laughed, mimicking her. So close and yet so far from Knothole, they were alone in the grassy clearing with a harmonious blend of sun, shade, and breeze. They made love and fell asleep. _Home_.


	3. Chapter 3

Nana, what would I do without you? I value your insight immeasurably. Thank you for all that you do!

* * *

A long ways from the heart of the village, so much so that it came within three-hundred yards of the first tree in the great forest, there was the slight roll of a shallow hill. It's grass was like peach fuzz. There was a door on a steeply sloped side hidden from sight.

"If I didn't know better," Geoffrey mumbled to himself, "I'd say he was a hobbit rather'n a hedgehog!"

Most of the gathered friends paid him no heed; partially because he was disliked, partially because they didn't want to acknowledge the fact that they didn't get the joke. _That was in bad taste_, he thought, still chuckling at his own wit. _Most o' this lot hasn't gone to school since they were just tots, if at all. Couldn't hardly 'xpect 'em to read Tolkien. _

Sally humored him with a smile, though. It made his stomach tighten. Should he smile back? He was working alone for this shift. He hardly wanted Hershey to think he was still a flirt. The blood in his extremities ran cold; Sally did very little without a reason. If she was smiling at him, it wasn't because she thought he was funny. She wanted everyone to know that she was not only literate but well-read.

_Rediculous! _His inner voice reprimanded him severely. He lowered his eyes, pushing away her charming smile to reach into his warmer memories for Hershey's dimples and gleaming green eyes. His chest deepened with breath again as he relaxed.

Why was Hershey so soothing, anyway? She tranquilized his anger, eased his anxiety, gathered up his fears and cast them off into the sun. She had the capacity to fill in all the holes punched into his life and still love him despite his flaws.

_Maybe that's why I want to give her the best I can._ His eyes tipped south, mind wandering the route to their plot, to the elegant oak and her necklace of hydrangea. He wasn't a rich man, and he couldn't buy her a marble mansion. But living on his own had taught him well; he had connections and skills that few kids with parents could claim. He'd build their home with a few repaid favors and his own hands.

"Yo!" His body snapped into attention, a reflex. The casual, nasally voice dropped measures in volume. It addressed him with a smooth, high-energy slur. "Y'okay, St. Jerk?"

Geoffrey blinked. The tunnel was void of people save himself and the hobbit-hog. "When did everyone leave?"

"Few minutes ago, man! Sal said you would catch up when you came to, but when I saw you weren't comin' to, I figured I'd give ya a wake-up call."

"She left?" His voice inclined sharply. "Dammit, I got ditched again…"

Sonic studied him for a second, scratching the far side of his head. "St. Jerk, what's up with you? You're not one to let the royals slip through your fingers. Normally you at least make a fuss!"

"Nothing's wrong with me."

"Look, we both know I'm faster. If you keep walking away, I'm just going to follow."

"See if I care," he snapped half-heartedly.

"See? You're not yourself."

"Gah!" He threw up his hands. Proving that he did, in fact, care. "You're as stubborn and obnoxious as always. What do you want me to say?"

"You're gonna think I'm crazy, but half the fun in being a hero is having a great rival."

"That's Robotnik."

"Butt-nik's my _nemesis_."

"Whatever, then Knuckles."

"Knux and I are the kinds of enemies that keep each other closer than our friends, if y'know what I mean."

Geoffrey shook his head. He extended his gate on the trail back to the castle; he had another shift starting in twenty minutes. "Leave the precision of my language alone, eh? Piss off, hedgehog."

"Dude." Sonic jogged backwards in front of him. "I know what your excuse is- you're gonna be late, right? It only takes you ten minutes to get to the castle, and shifts on start on the hour. It's twenty of. Tell me what the fuck your problem is!"

"Since when did you become my bloody keeper?" Geoffrey sighed, blowing frustration out in deep breaths. "It's just stress. It happens to people who work real jobs, awright?"

"I know how you get when you're under stress from work. This isn't stress from work. You got chick troubles."

He snorted. "Hershey's not a 'chick,' and my problem's not with her."  
"Then what?"

Geoffrey dropped the speed of his walk, reluctantly. A temperate breeze ran with his tail, made it flutter like a banner. "My problem's with me."

"Huh?"

"If I were smarter, maybe I'd be in a white-collar job, or higher up in ranks if I were more cutthroat. Then I wouldn't have to worry so much about money all the while."

Sonic pushed his shoulder and laughed. "You could be more cutthroat?"

"Ain't funny!"

"Chill, chill, man! You act like she's gonna leave you any minute. She loves you. She's here to stay, prince or pauper."

"Naw, I know she won't leave me." His head tilted to one side, eyes to the ground with pupils big and fluid and smooth like the dull glimmer of sea glass in the water. "But I don't like owin' nobody any debts. What she's done me's changed the course o' m'life. I need to repay her, but I got so little to repay 'er with."

The hedgehog nodded thoughtfully. "On the first night I got back, I noticed that something was seriously different between you two."

"Course we're different! You missed out on a lot, but most people don't even know-"

"Know what?"

"I'll give y'a hint: Hershey's last name changed."

Sonic stopped walking and grabbed the taller skunk by the shoulders and shook him. "Why didn't you say so?"

"It seemed irrelevant…"

"Bullshit!" He then shouted earnestly, "Congratulations!"

Geoffrey shrank away from the attention Sonic attracted, straightened up and rubbed one sore shoulder. "Thanks."

"Why didn't you tell anybody?"

"It wouldn't be right of us to steal your thunder, now."

Sonic's guilt crashed through the bottom of his stomach, shredded his intestines, and shattered his pelvic bone. "St. Jerk- you got hitched! Who's stealing whose thunder here?"

"And you came back 'from the dead,' as everyone says. You were a hero before but you're practically a Christ Figure now." Sonic opened his mouth to speak- "AND you're bound to be a prince one day. Social law dictates that I concede attention to you."

"My ass!" Sonic whacked his shoulder. "Marriage is marriage! Where'd you guys go for the ceremony?"

"Er…"

"C'mon, tell me!"

"Look, I don't wanna…"

"It can't be that bad."

"Oh, yes it can! You should see the look her mother gave me!" He visibly shivered. "God! That woman scares me. I swear, they just drop off at the mention of visiting her."

Sonic laughed. "Seriously." Geoffrey explained how their deathwish-wedding unfolded. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"So that look was 'hell hath no fury,' I take it?"

"Lord, yes."

"Does Hershey seem upset by it?"

"Hershey doesn't let off when she's upset. She ain't one to complain. It's her mother that's upset."

"Because of the ceremony?"

"Because of the ceremony, because she wasn't invited, because we got neither engagement nor weddin' ring, and to top it all off, I'm hardly a tomcat."

"A mother-in-law's hardly the kinda person you wanna make enemies with. Why not win 'er over with a few good gestures towards Hershey?"

Geoffrey narrowed his eyes. "Since when did you become Dr. Phil?" It was a great struggle for him not to call Sonic "Bilbo".

"I never did." He sighed in exasperation. "I really do wanna make things right with you, Geoff. I realize we done each other wrong in the past, but if all goes well, we're gonna be stuck with each other for a long time. Truce?"

Geoffrey's eyes thin as needles, he extended a wary hand. He was reassured by Sonic's confident grip. "Truce. Whaddaya mean by 'grand gestures,' anyway?"

"You can't change the fact that you're a skunk; that's somethin' Hershey's mom's gotta deal with. And you can't change the fact that you were in imminent danger and made a quick decision-"

"-best choice o' m'life."

"-so there's no point stressin' over those. But you _can_ get her a ring. You can go down on one knee and spout mush for 'er if you wanna. You can have a little ceremony in town, a real early vow-renewing ceremony, and invite the Momma-in-law."

"You speak a dangerous language, hedgehog."

"What's that?"

Geoffrey stopped again, practically at the castle gates. "I ain't good with mush. Y'know I always been a man for black-and-white, cut-and-dry."

"All that's fair in love an' war ain't black-and-white, Geoff. You're a quick learner. You'll figure it out." Sonic turned and waved. "Hey, good luck, St. Jerk."

Geoffrey grinned, hands on his hips. "Thanks for nothin', y'mug." And with a blue flash, the hedgehog streaked out of sight. _Wouldn't have it any other way._

--- --- ---

They dragged themselves in late that night. When it was novel, sharing the one cot had seemed bohemian and cute; as the nights wore on, it lost its charm. Geoffrey and schlepped her cot in a few days earlier and jammed it up against his own.

She reached across and pressed his palm against his forehead. "You okay?"  
"Yeh, why?"

"You've just laid there for the last hour or so. Come to think of it, you've been doing that a lot lately, stayin' up and thinkin'. What's on your mind?"

"Nothin', love. Go to sleep." He turned away from her on his side. She curled up along his back and hugged him like a stuffed bear.

"C'mon, don't be stubborn," she chided. "Tell me."

"It's nothin'. I awways got somethin' to think about. Just workin' out some possibilities for the new recruits."

"I thought you said Viv, Lance, and Vange were shoe-ins?"

He grumbled. "We can take more than three, y'know. I'm lookin' at that Ted fella."

"My foot. Tell me," she cooed. "Tell me what you've got in that fat head of yours."

"What a romantic you are!"

She smiled secretively when his chest shook with his belly chuckles. "You know it. Let me in on this. You do something wrong?"

"Naw- guess it's more like something I didn't do."

"Oh, baby…" She squeezed him. "Don't worry about all that garbage. I told you, that's just how Mom is. Once she gets used to you, she'll come around, I swear."

"Naw, naw, I ain't talkin' about yer mum anymore. I… well, I faintly remember bein' four or five years old, just m'father and I immigrated. My oldest sister loved to make grass dolls out of the scythed grass. When she wasn't busy basically bein' our mother, she'd play with 'em, make 'em all kinds o' outfits, an' all that.

"We loved Karen to bits. Everybody wanted to do something for her, so we'd usually make her some kind of a dye so her dolls could have a new dress."

Hershey gave him room to turn and face her, searching for his eyes beneath the white mass that was his bangs. "What about it?"

"We could make her almost any color, but we could never quite make blue. 'When I'm all grown up,' she would say, 'I want to get married in a little blue dress all my own.' That's all she wanted. No veil, no cake, just a store-bought dress."

She blinked in polite confusion. "I think I'm missing the point, Geoff."

"You make me think of Karen, more often than not. You give so much and expect so little." He sighed. "Let me do something small for you, anything. When you were jus' a li'l sheila, what did you want more than anythin' in the world?"

At first, no answer came. Then her voice came in clear and courageous, though soft and afraid. "I wanted to meet my father." Geoffrey gulped at the gloss polishing her eyes, feeling helpless against her bottled blue emotions. He pulled her close, into the curling feathery softness of the white fur on his chest.

"I'm sorry, love, I hardly meant…"

"No, baby-" she choked, "-you've done nothing wrong."

He held her for a long time, cradling her in soft hands, berating himself with shrieking whips of thoughts. _Failure!_ He'd kept her up. He'd made her cry. But worst of all, he was powerless to relieve her pain.

Once he was certain that she was deeply asleep, he slipped from the bed to check the clock. It was already into the wee hours of Sunday morning. If he wanted to make up for what he could not guarantee her, if he wanted to make up for all she was gypped out of on her special day, he would have to act fast. She would wake within a few hours.

He called to place an order for a small, two-layered chocolate cake at a bakery he knew would be open. He then opened the second-to-last drawer of his desk. When the handle was pulled, the bottom also opened, as the drawers were adjoined. He carefully removed the stacks of papers and the false plywood bottom. Reaching in, he hoisted out a compact, heavy trunk, and set it gently on his chair. He pulled out a palm-sized leather sack. After tucking it carefully into his inner breast pocket, he replaced everything as it was.

Including himself, so that nothing would appear suspicious.


	4. Chapter 4

Hershey's eyes opened lazily. The clock read six. She bolted up in bed and cursed the clock, swatting it off the night-stand with her paw. "Geoff!" She grumbled, "Geoff, wake up! That stupid clock of yours finally crapped out on us."

Her husband rolled onto his other side, mumbling, "Naw, naw, go back ta sleep."

"Seriously! It's five after. We gotta get outta here or we're gonna be late!"

"Naw."

"Geoffrey, you get up right now or I'll-!"

"Ain't doubtin' ya love, I know what the time is."

Legs dangling over the side of the bed, her toes stopped blindly sniffing for her old slippers. "Then what's keepin' you?"

"I called for us earlier. Chucked a sickie."

Her pinky toe curled cautiously against the heel of the worn-smooth plush. Eyes squinting to ebony splinters, she jerked her head around. "You? Chuck a sickie? You must actually be sick."

"Naw."

"I'm not in the mood for playing right now, Geoff. Get up, we got less'n twenty minutes now because you're just lyin' around!"

He sat up, propped on one elbow. He caught her wrist skillfully as she passed him by, like a child catching a moth by its wings. "Love," he crooned in his deeper morning voice, "I'm serious. Get some sleep."

"But…" She stood puzzled, free hand limp. Her tail flickered with spirited curiosity as her slippered foot itched its opposite ankle.

His eyes twinkled like cracked ice in the sun. An open arm invited her to sit in his lap, pulling her in close. "You'll like this," he whispered. "Promise."

Before she could ask him anything else, the phone rang off shrilly. He snatched it up. "'Ello? Yeh. Be right there. Thanks."

"Who was that?"

"Friend o' mine in town needs some help carryin' a few chords of firewood. He said he called others, too-"

"But how many?" Her whisper was wistful. "That could take all day if he's got a lot of wood."

"He made it sound like a lot. I'll tell'm I gotta leave in no more than two hours, awright?"

Hershey did her best not to pout when he got up and threw on a working undershirt and his aviator jacket. "It's just a little chilly spell. I don't see why he needs to worry about firewood at the start of September."

"Gets cold fast in this region, y'know that! 'Sides, as they say, 'It's too late to dig a well when you're thirsty!'" He mussed his hair because he didn't feel like combing it. A muted spark of jealousy burned Hershey's fingertips; it took her twice as long with several times the effort to get her hair to cooperate.

"Fine." The pout had definitely slipped into her voice when he hopped into his boots and strapped them up. She vaguely wanted to smack him as he left.

Geoffrey chuckled to himself on the way down the castle steps- all three landings of them. She thought he was abandoning her. He dug into his pocket for the money he'd stashed there the night before. A grin started and spread on his face in the wind like the spark of a brushfire, completely uncontainable. It took everything he had to take his time.

It wasn't quite late enough yet for steady, nippy fall weather. When the mugginess of August broke, unpredictable flashes of dry heat and chill left the town seizing in September. _Maybe this isn't such a great idea_, came the proverbial voice on his shoulder. _There's a steady wind going, and the clouds're pretty gray. _

He tripped in a pothole in the dirt road. If it hadn't broken him out of his trance, he would have missed the bakery entirely.

Upon stepping in, two young voices greeted him. "Mr. St. John!"

"Boys! Long time no see! 'Aven't seen head or tail of you lot since the ol' place burnt down back in the day."

Both of the teenagers had dark, brindled brown fur, and in the deceivingly dim light of the bakery they both seemed to have brown hair. As Geoffrey stepped closer, Jean's chestnut and Etienne's black waves were more distinct. The twins put their heads together briefly in private council. Then the younger, raven-haired brother lowered his muzzle and turned back to kneading a mass of dough. Jean smiled pleasantly. "Maman loves the new place, 'specially the brick oven. She tells us you're building your own place."

"You know yer mum. She's knows everything."

"We know," they said together, so grimly that Geoffrey had to laugh.

"Aw, least you two 'ave parents. I woulda killed fo' what you two got."

Jean nodded politely but dismissively. "Yes, of course. Didn't you order a cake?"

"Oh, yeh. Two-layered, chocolate?"

Jean jerked his head as his brother, who looked between his brother and family friend before scurrying off to fetch the cake. Etienne returned looking like a humble butler, flour-dusted apron about his waist, cake on a platter in an upheld hand. He displayed it to Geoffrey before handing it to him, as was customary, to make sure the order was satisfactory.

And who wouldn't be pleased with it? Perfectly round, darkly chocolate, moist-looking and tender in the meat of the cake itself, with perfect circles of vanilla icing over each layer. Nine little nubs of pink icing rosebuds along a white icing-frill graced its surface. He smiled at the shy brother, taking it in both hands and resting it gently on the serving counter. "Can you boys do one last thing for me?"

"Anything," Jean assured him. "That's what we're here for."

"I want to add one last decoration." He unzipped his aviator jacket just a little and reached into a high pocket. Out of the pocket came the little worn leather satchel, and from the satchel came a finely-boned silver ring with an emerald crown. Jean took the ring with the greatest care and propped the upper layer of the cake up with a serving tool. The ring jumped from his fingers and onto a bed of icing, quickly eaten up by the mouth of the cake. Jean squeezed a dab of red icing out onto the pink rosebud above.

"So you know where to cut," he explained with a wink. "Best of luck."

"Thanks so much, mate! Say 'ello to yer oldies fer me, awright?"

"Course! Come over next chance you get. Papa wants to talk to you about that house you're building. He thinks he might be able to lend a hand."

"Great!"

He was so excited that he wanted to whistle as he stepped out onto the street. But there was still so much to do; he figured it'd be best to save his breath. He said to himself, "Still gotta get bread, cold cuts, fruit, and som'in' to drink. Gonna be hard to carry all 'at." He sighed, muttering as he neared the open market. "This'd all be so much easier if we weren't dependent on the dining hall. Note to self: the first thing we put in our completed house will be a refrigerator."

He was aware of the badly-hidden stares he was attracting from the villagers and merchants alike. It was rare to see him still, or alone, or out of uniform, and yet here he was, all three, buying groceries. A withered old raccoon with nearly white eyes, practically blind from cataracts, cackled at him from behind her cart. "Who forgot his anniversary, I wonder?"

"Aw, hell, I 'aven't forgotten anythin' yet. Now, tha'd be right sad, wouldn't it?" He mused, paying her in coins to make her life easier. She grinned toothily, recognizing his unspoken sympathy.

"Why do you say that?"

"We're barely newlyweds! If I've forgotten somethin' awready, I'm dead meat."

"You overpaid."

"Eh, the deaf and the blind oughta help each other, I think."

"Deaf? But-"

"Sorry, love, can't hear a word y'sayin'!" He rapped on the table with his knuckles, his next target in sight.

Geoffrey had learned when he was just a boy that something with very little mass can still be very heavy if it's held for a long time. His arms felt like they were going to break off, and he still had a ways to go.

"Y'know," he said to himself, "at least I said I'd come back after two hours. If I went with the original one hour I'd planned on, I'd be screwed."

A nasally voice trailed lazily from somewhere behind him, like cigarette smoke. "Geoffrey?"

"Hm?"

Antoine laid a hand on his shoulder, silky golden threads cropped short. "I thought I could not be wrong: there are so few skunks in Knothole, after all. But you so rarely leave the castle off duty…"

"I see y'finally got a proper soldier's cut. What, they finally descended, or Bunnie got jealous?"

"So vulgar!" He pushed Geoffrey's shoulder. His spidery-fingered hands and delicate arms couldn't make him budge an inch. It was like an iris attempting to dent an old-growth oak.

"Guess it was the latter, then. You got as much muscle as a baby girl!"

"It's not that I am not muscular. I'm just lean- my whole family is svelte. We're coyotes, after all."

"And French, which doesn't help your argument." He laughed bawdily at Antoine's dirty glare, but they both knew he meant nothing by it. "Anyway, I'm glad I ran in to you. Y'father still keep wine in the cellar? Y'the only person I know that has it all the time."

"But of course- why do you ask?"

"I need to buy some off you. The merchants want a fortune for the cheap stuff."

"Thank God you said something about it. Bunnie says I'm just stingy." He huffed, leading them both toward his father's home.

"That's pretty damned strange, I'd say. I dunno anybody who knows wine better'n y'family does."

The blond coyote shrugged, flicking the doorknob as a snake would his tongue. "At least I'm not crazy, then. Be right back."

It was like a whole humble pie had been shot right into Geoffrey's face. Though on the outside the D'coolette hut looked like everyone else's, the inside was glaringly, luxuriously unique. First of all, it was the only house besides the castle that was carpeted, and in thick, warm, burgundy finery. From where he stood, he could see the broad fireplace with its magnificently carved mantle; knowing the general's taste for quality, it was mahogany, no doubt. Geoffrey would bet his right arm that the high-backed chair in view, what with the beautiful black-and-silver silk embroidery on its cushions, was an heirloom from French-Mobius.

Somehow, he managed to recover his slackened jaw before Antoine returned. Suddenly he felt a fool, aching arms full of common food and treats, staring at all this splendor. This was the home Antoine promised to Bunnie upon proposal. At the end of the day, Hershey would be looking at an empty wooden box with windows. "Geoffrey?" Antoine called him to focus. "I hope red is alright? You don't strike me as one for white."

His voice came in thin to his own ears. "Y'know, I hardly know wine. Whatever y'brought up is fine. Red, white, don't care."

"Take my word on the red, then. It's my favorite."

"What do I owe you?"

"Nothing! A loan between friends, no?"

"Let me pay you something," Geoffrey insisted.

"No, really, I don't need anything for it. Sometime, when we need a favor, I will call on you. You are a most dependable man, no doubt."

"Thanks, 'Twan. I owe y'one, then." He turned towards the castle feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he was relieved that he didn't have to pay for the wine, because the most he could offer was a pittance compared to the D'coolette income. On the other hand, he was mildly insulted that he wasn't even given a chance to fulfill his end of the bargain. He resolved that he was better off for Antoine's kindness. After all, owing a favor in Knothole was just as serious as owing hard cash. Geoffrey would prove, as he had time and again, that he was indeed a most dependable man.

Using his thick shoulder, Geoffrey nudged his way into their dorm. "G'mornin', love."

Hershey blinked from where she had fallen back asleep. "Oh! Mornin', baby. What's all this?"

"A surprise. Do me a favor and get dressed. I'm gonna get Ace all started up, awright?"

"Where we goin'? What's all this?" She asked again, sitting up. "What's this all for?"

He could only grin at her excitement, kissing her on the nose. "I'm tellin' you, you'll see! Go get ready, I'll be right back."

Hershey had her girly moments, but for the most part she lacked feminine habits that drive men mad; she wasn't one to waste all the hot water on long showers, it didn't take her more than ten minutes to get dressed, and she didn't fuss over her hair. In moments, she was transformed from bed-head to beauty. She packed Geoffrey's purchases into their work bags so that nothing would jostle around, break, or squish the softer items.

"Ready?"

"I'm all set- uh, except for one thing." She held up the cake, smirking. "How're we gonna pack this, and what's it for?"

He flushed reluctantly. Though he attempted a cocky grin, he appeared more sheepish. "Gimme that, I'll do it."

She danced away from him and held the cake above her head. "Nuh-uh! Gimme gimme never gets!"

"Oh, f'the love o' God…" He faked her out by reaching for it with his arms and then snatching it with his long tail. "Grab a knife an' a coupl'a forks, would you? Oh, and glasses. We'll need those."

She helped him add the silver- and glassware, studying him without a word as she locked the door behind them. They greeted familiar faces that they passed in the hallways, but said little else. She was about to burst with curiosity as they loaded the simple little plane.

"I know what y'gonna say," he said over the wind, "but y'gotta wait." He held her jacket for her, then hopped in and extended an arm to help hoist her in.

"I was gonna tell you to remember your goggles, but if you know everything…"

"Oh!" He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Try to be a good bloke an' y'make a mockery outta me."

She laughed as he turned the key. The engine roared to life, the propeller whirred with animation. Geoffrey felt a kinship to this brilliant machine that he could not entirely explain. His love for flying was so intertwined at this point with his love for Hershey that both were muddled by a vicious cycle of thought. He and Hershey mutually loved to fly, to be free, to experience that whole new world in the heavens, and yet Ace loved Hershey, too. This plane came to life when she hopped in the back seat and gently pressed his buttons. Perhaps that was why Geoffrey was so at peace when the wind shredded her laughter to ribbons, shimmering, vibrant colors of sound.

They landed miles and miles to the northeast of Knothole, in a large clearing between two forests. A shallow, wide stream cut the clearing unevenly and at an angle, so that three-quarters of the space lay to the left. Geoffrey played the landing so that they just skimmed the stream, spraying up water all around him and making his wife squeal. She smacked him playfully when they stopped. "You did that on purpose!"

"Of course!"

She scrunched her legs up beneath her on the seat. Pushing her goggles off her head, she sprung forward and yanked Geoffrey's down over his snout. She threw her arms around his head and gave him the kind of rough kiss he loved. "I _will _get this surprise out of you, y'know."

"Not before it's time, you won't."

"Betcha I will." She rubbed his ear between forefinger and thumb. "C'mon, tell me."

"If this is how it's gonna go down, let's at least get outta Ace first."

She grinned wickedly at him. "Do we have to?"

He gulped in a weak attempt to keep his composure. "Probably should." Grabbing up the picnic bag, he vaulted the side of the plane and landed with his knees bent. "Wanna hand?"

"Nah, I can do this much myself. Have a little faith!"

"Hehe, sure thing. You think to bring a blanket? I know I didn't." He stopped walking and looked at her bemusedly. "Oh, knock off the puns. 'Hand' off the ass until we get where we need to be."

"Have you noticed that our roles are the opposite of what they should be?"

"Just because you're more of a horn-dog than me doesn't make you more masculine."

"Oooh, somebody's getting defensive!" She snickered as he walked away faster; she knew that he was hiding a wildly-spreading blush. Little did she know he'd made fun of Antoine in a similar fashion just an hour before. "But yes, it's on the bottom. The old blue one we've nearly beaten to death."  
"Yeh, I think we oughta cut it for rags after this." He set down the blanket not far from the plane, in case danger arose or the weather took a turn for the worst. Though he'd had every intention of eating first, he was too consumed with impatience to ignore her long.

When at last they had expended most of their energy, the sun peeked through the cloud cover. He lay on his stomach and held her close, mostly underneath the sheltering warmth of his body and his open jacket. He kissed her forehead and propped himself up on his elbows. "Got the ants outta y'pants long enough to eat?"

"I think so." Happiness was all over her face. Her dimples winked at him while she made their sandwiches, so like the cleft on the bottom of a perfect peach. He was a hypocrite, unable to keep his lips to himself when those magic little freckles appeared. "Seriously, Geoffrey. We're here, we're alone. What's this all about?"

"Just eat. You'll know it when you see it."

She ate half her sandwich and put it down. "Oh, I'm too excited! I'll finish on the way home."

"Too excited for cake?"

"I forgot! I'm always good for cake."

"Perfect- glad to say I know you at least that well, eh?" He cut her a substantial piece, wanting to make sure he included everything.

"Hey, I may have a sweet tooth, but I don't wanna be a fatty."

"Oh, just take it. We both know I'll wind up eating half of it, even if you get a quarter of this monster. Why is it that you never finish any food you're served?"

"Dunno," she said, cocking her head at the cake. Whatever she said next was drowned out by Geoffrey's blood rushing through his ears. It took her hours to stab into the moist chocolate with a fork and take a bite. It took her years to eat the bottom half. Then she put it down. "God, that's good cake!"

"Wait, I don't want it yet…"

"Seriously, it's great cake."

"Take one more bite."

"Geoff, I'm full." She rubbed her barely-distended belly. His face was insistent. "Okay, okay."

Her fork clinked when it touched the icing. Another wildfire grin swept across his face as she lifted the tiny, icing-covered ring by the prong of her fork. Gently, she cleared the sugary froth from the face of the emerald. Together, her eyes and the ring winked at him, shining with tears. "Wow, baby. All this, for me? I don't completely understand- I mean, we're married."

The wound in the clouds stitched itself back up, and the winds swept up mist around them. Her slight frame shivered slightly. Pulling her into himself, he nuzzled her cheek. "Every little girl should have her special day, neh? We're married, love, but we ain't had ourselves a weddin' to celebrate." Hot tears squeezed from her eyes when she hugged his neck, sinewy and tough though it was. "One ring down, two more to go."

The sky opened up. Their tender embrace was split by the force of its hammering, icy rains. They threw everything back haphazardly into the bag and ran for the cover of Ace's wings. Busily fleeing from the downpour, they didn't have a chance to enjoy Antoine's wine.


End file.
